Summary: Drugs, sex, violence, the dead, and of course Damien. Oh, and not to mention an immortal and dead-seeing Kenny.
"His mother brought him to New Jersey, reaching a train of internal devastation along the way."(Chapter One)
Warnings: Drug usage, violence, semi-gore, sex (NC-17), heavy adult humor/language, hints of slash if you squint (like Kuroshitsuji/Black Butler in that sense)
Without further ado I give you:
The Innocent and The Damned
Chapter One: Innocent Yet Damned I of II
I'll Be Yours
I'll be your liquor bathing your soul
Juice that's pure
And I'll be your anchor you'll never leave
Shores that cure
Well I've seen you suffer, I've seen you cry for days and days
So I'll be your liquor demons will drown
And float away
I'll be your father, I'll be your mother,
I'll be your lover, I'll be yours
(Placebo, I'll Be Yours)
CRASH!
Kyle jolted at the sound, closing his notebook and dropping his pencil as an immediate reaction, his eyes landing on his doorknob. With no lock, he felt strangely exposed even with the door closed and light off. He opened his desk, finding the filled syringe and sighing in both self-disgust and relief at once. He opened his ears, listening intently to the sounds of his screaming mother below.
He tied his arm as her voice became more distinct, closer now. Hitting the vein as a test, the needle pierced his skin and filled his bloodstream with sweet release. He could hear her, even in this state, closer than before. She had to be at the top of the stairs now. Hiding the evidence of his addiction inside his desk once more, he eyed the door with a frown.
As expected, she burst inside, screaming at the top of her lungs about how her "good-for-nothing" son ruined her chances with her latest boyfriend. Kyle bit his lip to keep from talking back, and only dared to glance at the woman. Her hair greasy and her face wrinkled from years of substance abuse. Teeth yellow and black, the latter just like her heart. He watched her take a drag of her cigarette, and closed his eyes, knowing what she wanted tonight.
He still remembered her from before, when he was a kid. She used to be kind, religious even. But that was before his father…before he left like the sinful bastard he was, as his mother had said. He still remembered the day he left, screams and clanging still haunted him today in his dreams. He still felt something inside of him break when the door slammed. Still feel the first sting from him and his mother's first real fight. The memories from then on began to flash through his mind, hazy, unfeeling, and just as unwelcome as just about everything else in his life. And as much as he tried to avoid it, he found himself there once more in the past as his mother burned him literally with the end of her cigarette, taking great sadistic pleasure in the dark marks the burns left.
"Sheila, I swear to G-" Gerald began, his face growing redder and the room quieter with every harshly-given word.
Sheila Broflovski didn't let him finish. She was fed-up with his debates. She knew better than him, and he just had to fall from the path she was trying desperately to lead him on. "What, GOD? You're going to swear to the same being that you betrayed the MOMENT you entered that house!"
Gerald huffed, his cheeks flushing darker to an almost-purple shade of anger. "I'm THROUGH with this, Sheila! I'm tired of arguing with you! You and I both knew this would happen eventually, you can't keep a part of me locked away like some animal just because you think it's the way of God!"
Sheila's eyes flashed, with a solitary moment of total silence and an isolated point of the finger, she said the last two words she'd say to them while they remained in this fiasco of a marriage, "Get. Out."
Gerald hesitated, stuttering under his breath before leaving the room, his home, and his young son crying in his hands nearby begging for an unknown stability, forever.
-0-
Kyle fell to the floor of his room, his back against the door and his head dangling from his neck in a given-up position. His arms fell beside him respectively, his palms collapsed on the flooring beneath him. Another day without his father passed and with it, a piece of sanity in his mother was collected like a debt or collateral for a crime Kyle was sure he must have committed for this fate.. As if the room knew his grievances, it darkened. The window showing the edge of what was the sunset glimmering to black.
Kyle didn't care for the sun anymore nor its beauty he had once loved and rejoiced from. Not with this loathsome existence he had recently come into. Only ten-years-old, yet he felt older. Like this weight had been placed on his shoulders on the first day the arguments of his parents began and it gained in pounds for days before lingering only to add tons. With the weight, his shoulders slackened, his head fell, and his breath grew shallow.
Tears welled in his eyes, unshed but not needing to. The bruised eye hidden by shadows brought on by the beginning of night and the end of light as he knew it. If he hadn't been such a burden to his father, the man would still be here, at least that's what his mother sewed into him. Weaving his mind to a path of termination with every word. He tried desperately to turn against these tragic thoughts, trying to pull himself into a more meaningful lifestyle, but it was worthless in the end.
His school hated him. An outcast because of his background, bruises, and social disability. New Jersey wasn't the place he would have wanted to grow up, had he known there was another choice, but it was the only place he'd gotten to know since his dad's leaving day.
The day after his father left, they moved. His mother brought him to New Jersey, reaching a train of internal devastation along the way. She began her parties after a couple months, and as years aged her son they did her once-lovely face. The inner turmoil and physical self-hatred of herself showed on lines etched on her once-smooth skin. Kyle only hoped to never devote himself to his own detonation, but as the time passed with new boyfriends of his mother, new parties, new drugs, and the old loathing-teens of his school, he found himself wanting to join in forgetting the past.
The room grew colder, and darker as time passed with his thoughts. Crickets grew silent and the creaks of the house were no more. Stuck in this pause in time, Kyle didn't move. He gave into the silence and let it comfort him like a friend. For once, solitude and confinement was a need he was willing to fulfill.
-0-
At eleven, Kyle learned to always give in to the silence at the end of the night. When the sun was down and his room cold and dark. He left his window open, not caring of what may come in, just to feel the sweet solace of the night. Somewhere within him, he knew the light was needed, but just as he had learned by his environment, he left the thoughts alone and quickly grew to forget them.
The switch came soon enough, with a new person in his life. A boy his age, with light skin and dark hair. It was at night, as it always was with new joys in Kyle's life, when this new joy happened. This night, he was sitting on his bed he was rocking back and forth, his hand ruffling his hair as a small comfort. Once-again damaged from the long-day before, he was giving into the night's cool comfort.
Then, quite suddenly, within the silence came a voice, "Why do you always do that?"
The voice was child-like, hushed and calm. Friendly, a tone Kyle hadn't heard in years.
Blinking with shock, Kyle timidly looked up from his arms to the curious face at his window. "W-what?" he asked, his voice hoarse from non-usage as well as shock.
The face turned into a shadow-covered body as the child entered, sitting on the windowsill casually, as if it belonged to him. "Why do you always do that?" he asked again, searching.
Kyle watched the stranger for a moment, wondering whether his secret was worth telling. With a shrug, he half-heartedly answered, his head facing away from the boy. "I dunno, I guess it just helps me. Y'know, get calm and stuff…"
The boy cocked his head to the side and gave a snort. "You do it every single day, it has to be more than that! Besides, you seem more interesting than just a kid needing to get calm."
Kyle blinked and looked at the boy in his room, "Maybe that's all there is. Besides, who are you to question my motives?"
The boy laughed, "I'm just curious is all. That and since mom's been getting all mad at me for no reason I've got nowhere else to be. Saw your window open, decided to explore."
Kyle furrowed his eyebrows at this, "What's your name?"
"Damien, you?"
"Kyle. Kyle Broflovski."
"Broflovski?" Damien laughed.
Kyle glared, "Yeah, Broflovski, what's your last name?"
Damien shook his head, "Not important."
Kyle looked confused but left the conversation alone. "So, why didn't you say anything before? Why now?"
Damien's laughter slowed, "Thought it'd be creepy." he shrugged, "But I couldn't help but ask sooner or later, I was curious."
Kyle raised an eyebrow. "Guess it's pretty creepy that you were there without me knowing, but I guess it could be worse." he said, thinking aloud partly. "Um, are you new here, I don't think I've ever seen you before." he asked.
Damien shook his head, "Nah, been here a couple years. Just that mother didn't put me in school, she signed me up for home schooling. Dad had put me in school before, but when mom heard that she wanted to be different and took me out. She doesn't teach me anything though, just gives me books. I hate it to be honest. I don't really have the chance to talk to anyone since they're at school. And the ones I do talk to are complete assholes."
The redhead nodded in understanding. "Are your parents broken-up?"
The other shook his head, "They weren't together, dad just took me till I was nine, when mom took me. Dunno why she suddenly wanted to, she doesn't seem to like me or dad."
Once again, Kyle nodded. He knew the feeling of not being wanted, it was horrible. Especially with no one to talk to about the feelings. Being lonely was one of the worse parts about New Jersey life. More so in this part of the place, where gangs haunted the city and kids grew up to love sin. But if there was one thing Kyle envied about Damien, one thing he didn't have, it would be the fact that a parent wanted him. His father never so much as tried, he just left and never called again. No letter or anything, as if he didn't exist the moment he exited the door. And his mother, she stopped wanting him the moment the first argument with his father began, blaming her only son for his departure and how no one wanted to be with her when she had such a "demon" in her house.
-0-
A year passed, the sun rising and setting typically. Always lighting the world only to bask it in darkness once more later. This particular sunset, Kyle lay outside on the grass. Wind caressed his hair softly, the curls bouncing back and forth slowly. Eyes closed, Kyle spread his arms, letting go of the days before and praying for better ones to come. During this silent prayer, a shadow dropped over the light seen over his eyelids. Kyle opened his eyes to see a smirking Damien leaning over him.
"Whatcha doin'?" the boy asked, kneeling down on the grass next to his friend.
"Praying," the redhead replied with a shrug, "not that it ever helps."
Damien sneered, "Ugh, praying is stupid. A waste of time, if you ask me. It's not like He's listening up there, too busy giving priests boners for kids."
Kyle frowned, "I'm not gonna have this argument with you again." he stated, remembering the few times he had been caught praying by the other only to be ridiculed for believing in and even praying to a higher power.
With a sigh and a shrug, Damien decided to drop the subject with, "Whatever, just sayin' that God or whatever has one Hell of a sick sense of humor. First, He gives you joy then snatches it away. Next, he watches as you're degraded again and again, giving you false hope in one day being happy with joy again by telling you to pray. Then, he laughs at your destruction, watching you die in the end with nothing to show for your life except misery, hate, and complete devastation overall. It's sickening. I hate to see you fall for the trick."
Kyle closed his eyes again, bathing in what was left of the sun. The wind blew harshly, and with it the darkness came. The thrill of the end of day hit the redhead fully, making him excited with the night's offers. "Isn't it wonderful?" he asked.
"Yeah, it is. Beautiful actually." the other admitted.
"I wish night came sooner," Kyle admitted, deciding against telling his friend that moments like these, ones quiet and beautiful, were enough to keep his belief in God going strong. Delicate silence followed his statement. Only to be cut short by Damien.
"Want one?" Damien asked, making Kyle open his eyes.
In the boy's hand were cigarettes, nothing new in Kyle's eyes as his mother usually had a few a day. Yet, his eyes widened all the same, as seeing the start of his mother's change from a caring person to a spiteful one in his friend's hand scared him. The objects were the start of the drugs. First, cigarettes, then alcohol, next the harsher drugs… Kyle shook himself out of those thoughts. "Never thought you'd have those." he said.
Damien lit one all the same, placing it to his lips skillfully. With a drag, he thought about what to say next. "Why not?" he replied.
Kyle looked away from him to the sky. The stars faded into existence one by one. Tiny orbs of light. They were the only light Kyle liked. "Sheila uses them, you know?" he said, refusing to call her "mom" when she acted nothing like one.
Damien turned toward his friend, his face showing his new understanding. "Ah, so does my mom."
"Then why do you follow her example?" Kyle asked disbelievingly, disappointment evident on his face.
Damien shrugged, exhaling a stream of smoke into the sky. "Guess it's all ya can do here. With everything else in life so fucked up and depressing, why not? It's just a way of controlling something for once. I get one when I want, mom none-the-wiser, and use it when I want. Guess it's about actually controlling something for once. Besides, it's not like there's much else to do anyway." he reasoned.
The boy then handed one to Kyle, the redhead grasping it tenderly. "I dunno." he said hesitantly. Damien made some good points, but he still had the promise to himself, that he wouldn't become his mother. He wouldn't do what she did.
"Trust me." Damien stated, opening the lighter with a click of his thumb. Kyle watched the small fire with a sad expression, the burns left on his back from Sheila's own cigarettes' pulsing as if in warning. He held the drug up to the flame with a slightly trembling hand. Damien smiled, "Go on," he urged.
Kyle blinked before taking a drag, coughing almost immediately afterward. His lungs constricted with the new air. Damien patted his back with a laugh, "Not so bad, is it?"
With a look of defiance, Kyle glared at his friend, "I-" with a shudder of more coughs he calmed his body. "I wouldn't call this, 'not so bad'." he said.
"Didn't kill ya, did it?" Damien asked with a grin.
Kyle shook his head, "Not now, but later, who knows..."
Damien smacked the boy on the back once more, "You'll be fine. Don't have much to look forward to anyway, am I right?"
Kyle slapped Damien harshly on the back of his head. "Ow!" the boy protested loudly, rubbing his head gently.
"Maybe you don't, but I'll get out of here and be something one day." he promised, taking a smaller drag from the drug once more, this time a slower and smaller one. He exhaled into the night air the smoke twirling through the air in a demented dance, wondering when he was supposed to feel better. When the reason for why so many people became addicted to the drug would kick in and make him feel better. But instead, he just felt bitterness. Maybe it took time…
Damien smiled beside him and placed an arm around his shoulder, "I have no doubts about that. When you say something you'll do it."
-0-
The memories swallowed his mind whole, his eyes watering from the effort of concentrating only on them and the holding back of whimpers of pain as his mother continued her assault.
-0-
At thirteen, Kyle began his new school. Middle school did nothing to change Kyle's social anxieties. Kids still hated him all the same, except now more kids did it than before. But for what reason other than their parents' own hatred of his mother, Kyle didn't know. The difference between this school and the last? Now they knew more ways to torture him. With the new intelligence prodded into them by the teachers, kids had new ammo and more ideas than they had in elementary school. If Kyle thought he had hated his school life before, he was wrong. He grew to loathe his life more than ever. Skipping class only added to his hatred as the bad neighborhood held no place for children to stay and play or even just think without being in constant fear of danger.
Parks were wrecked with cliché logos of gangs which were spray-painted onto the dirty; unstable slides and swings were either swung over the bar they were placed on until they were unreachable or they hung by one hinge or were missing completely.
His home was out-of-the-question as a place to be. His mother was home more often than not. And with her being home came Hell. He couldn't stand being in the same place as her. She was worse than his peers ad he would pick their constant hatred over her own any day.
Kyle weaved his way through the hall, head down the entire way to his destination. Along the way, he easily spotted the "accidentally" misplaced foot in his way. He desperately wanted to dodge it, but he knew that would only mean more pain later. So, he consented to a small piece of humiliation in place of a larger one. Tripping over the appendage, his books and papers fell to the floor with his body. The word "kike" flew from someone's mouth, but he didn't care whose. He was too used to hearing it, and so many others, that it bounced off of him. Laughs followed the stumble, but Kyle paid them no heed. He was used to them everywhere he went. From school to his imagination, they followed his life. Forever trailing him and his every fault.
Shaking his head from the thoughts, he began to grab his books, a task made more difficult than it should have been by the many peers "accidentally" kicking the objects as they walked, farther and farther from where they had originally fallen. The late bell rang, and with it the halls cleared. With a sigh of appreciation, Kyle grabbed the last few papers off of the floor.
When the school day over, Kyle rushed to the side of the school, hiding in the shadows of the trees from the other students just as he had since the start of the ridicule. Looking around, he didn't see anyone nearby. Placing his belongings on the ground, he grasped the bark of the tree and began his dissent to the top branch. He usually held his own, fighting with fists when necessary, but when school began or ended and at lunchtime, he was open to attack from groups of people. He found that fights where one against three or more were extremely difficult to win. Carefully and practiced, he gained his balance and casually sat on the branch. From here, he could see the busses just leaving the building as well as the students waiting for their parents to pick them up from school.
Kyle watched them enviously as they talked amongst one another, smiling and laughing. He wanted nothing more than to be apart of that. Just as he knew Damien wanted. Thinking of his friend made him more upset. He wished now more than ever that Damien was with him in school. The other knew how to handle people better than he did. They still hated people in general, but some, like the ones Damien's mother invited over with her friends for parties, were okay. Kyle was never allowed to go to these gatherings as Damien's mother refused to have anything to do with "that piece of garbage". The people were nice to Damien, at least they were after he showed them his angry self.
Kyle had yet to experience the "angry side" of Damien, but the boy assured him that it shut up everyone around him. Another reason for Kyle's envy of him. Yet, he wasn't mad at Damien for the boy's greatness. No, he was jealous but was more controlled than being angered from the jealousy. One fact for which he was grateful.
There was one part of Damien he hated more than any other, the stoner. This was a typical part of the boy. He often smoked, drank, basically anything to get away from life. But, Kyle knew better than to protest. He didn't want to lose his one friend in his life. So, he joined Damien. He loathed himself for it, which only made him use more. He was actively destroying his life so that he would have one. And by doing so he was following in his mother's footsteps, breaking his promise he once held highly to himself.
He watched as the last kid left the school, talking avidly to his parents in the car as they drove away. Kyle exhaled and relaxed on the branch, leaning to a laying position. Leaves clouded part of his vision, but what he could see was great all the same. The sky wasn't as beautiful or as astounding as the full moon sitting motionless and watching the stars dance around it. But it did have clouds, white and gray poofs of fuzz creating shapes of pleasure. Kyle loved to watch the clouds when the night wasn't offered, they gave him a feeling of knowledge. The promise that later his life would mean something, and that somewhere in the world, someone would want him without having to take drugs for them to accept him. Not that he didn't like Damien, just his habits and his creating Kyle's guilt for not doing the same as him.
Kyle began his dissent down the tree, misjudging a foot placement once and falling. He panicked, closing his eyes for the end. He could, in a weird moment, see himself falling from the tree, his arms flailing out like a bird ready to fly. The fall seemed to last minutes, though it was only a second. Then, the end came with a soft thump!
Kyle lost his breath, scared to open his eyes. Knowing that somehow he was safe. "No thank you?" a familiar voice teased.
Kyle opened his eyes in a rush, seeing his savior's face above his own. Damien's face. Usually Kyle would smack the boy for the stupid sentence but he was too shocked to do it. "Wh-what-"
"Just because I don't go here doesn't mean I can't stalk you here like I did when we first met." Damien said matter-of-factly.
Kyle rolled his eyes, exhaling a long breath before noticing his predicament. "Put. Me. Down." he demanded, his face growing red. He had only just noticed what had happened. Damien had caught him, and was currently holding him in his arms bridal-style.
Damien laughed, "Is that any way to treat someone who just saved your life?"
Kyle's eyebrow twitched in aggravation. "I wouldn't have been hurt too badly, and definitely would be less humiliated if I had just hit the ground."
Damien laughed again, stopping once he saw the death-glare of the redhead in his arms. Gently and quickly, he placed Kyle on the ground. "Sorry…" he murmured, not really sorry but saying it to help the other's emotions.
Kyle sighed and rubbed the back of his head, "Thanks." he said softly.
The black haired boy smiled back at him. "Whatever would you do without me?" he asked, earning a smack to the back of the head, "Ow! What was that for?"
His friend shrugged, "Just being you."
"One of these days you're gonna give me a concussion and you'll be sorry…" Damien stated.
"Nah, I think I'll be too busy laughing to celebrate," Kyle replied.
Trying not to smirk, Damien walked ahead towards the way to the park. Kyle followed, happy to see his friend so early in the day rather than the usual night. "So, how did you know where I was?" he asked curiously.
"Didn't see you when school got out, looked for you but couldn't find you. Then, I asked myself what I would do to get away from the crowds and concluded you'd be in a tree. Away from where anyone could find you. After that, all I had to do was find a tall enough tree with leaves for cover and your stuff nearby. Pretty easy actually." he admitted.
Kyle laughed, surprising the other. "Only you," he said in reply to the questioning look Damien gave him.
Damien smiled before laughing himself.
-0-
Sitting on the grass, Kyle looked at the park. Some added graffiti was the only difference from the last night he was there. He had many "firsts" here. All of them related to hated substances by his mind and loved substances by his body. Sure, it protested them, but it wanted them all the same. Like how someone still craves candy and food bad for the body, even though they know it's bad for them and will affect them later on if not soon.
Damien handed him a blunt, as if knowing how bad a day Kyle had had that day. Kyle looked at it hesitantly, craving its release but hating it all the same. He caught the thrown lighter and lit the end of the stick before taking a drag. Beside him, Damien sat.
"You know, I think you're getting skinnier." he said conversationally.
Kyle nodded and handed him the roll and exhaling the smoke. "I've been losing more weight recently." he admitted.
Taking a long drag, Damien did the same as Kyle and handed the stick back to the boy before exhaling. "You're already too skinny." he stated. "Soon you'll be a stick."
Kyle shook his head, repeating the same motion as earlier with the blunt. He drove a hand through his hair before replying. "Not like I can help it." he said. "That stupid bitch is starting to bail on bills and groceries because she's using all the child support to party. I'm amazed we haven't been evicted yet."
Closing his eyes, Damien exhaled a stream into the air. The sun began to set as the two sat there. "Can't wait till you're out of there." he said finally.
Kyle nodded. No more words were said. But none were needed.
-0-
That night, Kyle came into the house at midnight. Not caring about the lateness of the time, he walked through as he would any other time. He didn't try to silence his footsteps in the least. The 'bitch' as he began to call her more and more lately, wouldn't be asleep. No, she was too busy trying to find a body to fuck her. The latter words stemming from his mother's own mouth on a particularly bad day.
The thirteen-year-old found his room nearby, turning on the light and opening his window before closing the door. He could hear moaning coming from his mother's room, but he made himself ignore it. He focused getting his bed clothes out before going to the bathroom. The moans became louder before stopping, making Kyle breathe a sigh of appreciation.
After he showered and dressed, he turned off his room light. Next, he kneeled down next to his bed to say his nightly prayers quietly. But this time, he added in Damien. He begged for the boy's safety and that he would turn away from the sins in drugs. But deep inside, he felt stupid. Damien's words echoed in his mind. He shook them away, he wasn't being "tricked" as the other so modestly put it, he couldn't be. No one's humor could be as sick as what Damien described God's to be. But, hearing the new heavy footsteps near his door that couldn't belong to his mother, he wondered whether the humor was just as sickening.
-0-
Kyle couldn't get up in the morning, his body too sore to move. Taking a deep breath, he tried again and again to get up from his bed, only to fall back down. Groaning, he rolled over only to feel a sting of pain from his eye from the act. "Great, just fucking fantastic…" he murmured. "Another fucking bruise."
He listened for any sounds intently, praying for his mother's absence. After a few moments of nothing but silence, he breathed relief. "Thank You, God." he said happily in relief.
-0-
On his fourteenth birthday, he woke from not being able to breathe. A hand covered his nose and mouth intently. Flinging his arms towards the attacker, he heard a familiar voice say, "Ow!"
The hand let go of his face, allowing him to breathe once more. Panting, Kyle turned to the boy sitting next to him on the floor covering his private area. "Why'd you do that?" Damien asked in a strained voice.
Kyle growled, "Oh I don't know…" he began. "Maybe because I thought you were trying to kill me?" he said angrily, hitting the already-in-pain boy on the back of the head harshly with a pillow. "What the fuck were you thinking?" he asked, ignoring the pain-filled groans of the boy now rolling on the floor.
"I'm sorry!" Damien exclaimed, "I wanted to surprise you awake!"
"Why?" Kyle groaned.
Damien gave him an annoyed look and a grunt before rolling into a sitting position. He took out something from underneath the bed. And handed it to Kyle, looking away from the other's face in a try to be defensive. "Happy Birthday." he said unenthusiastically.
Kyle looked at the object handed to him, he took it into his hands with a look of surprise. He can't believe he had forgotten his own birthday, again… It was a gift, wrapped in newspaper. He looked sadly at the gift for a moment before turning back to the boy next to him. He then smacked him on the back of the head, softer than before, but harshly nevertheless.
"What the Hell was that for!" Damien demanded, rubbing his head agitatedly.
"For always making me feel bad for stuff!" Kyle replied with a cross of his arms.
Damien smiled at him, "I'll forgive ya, but only this once." he said.
Kyle smiled back at him, "Thanks for this."
"Well?" Damien asked, "Are you going to open it anytime soon?"
Smile widening, Kyle unwrapped the gift delicately, reveling in the moment. He used to love opening gifts on his birthday, but after his father left them there weren't anymore gifts to open. Until Damien came, small moments like these became only natural. Though they weren't as wild as this one.
A small box was revealed after the newspaper was off. Opening it, Kyle's eyes widened. A golden necklace with an oval black stone lay inside. Something inside Kyle warned him against the item, but the rest of him loved it. The small item looked powerful, even though it was only a necklace.
"Catching flies?" Damien asked, shaking Kyle from his overwhelmed state of mind.
Kyle immediately closed his mouth, his face reddening at the same time. "Want me to help put it on?" Damien asked. With a nod from Kyle, the other took the item from the box and placed it around the redhead's neck with a smirk. Kyle held up his hair, dreading the reminder of how he needed to cut his hair again, as Damien fastened the back of the necklace. "So?" he asked. "Do you like it?"
Kyle turned to the boy, filled with gratefulness from the expensive-looking gift. "It looks so…"
"Costly?" Damien finished, knowing his friend, "Don't worry 'bout it. It's an heirloom from my dad. He sent it to me."
Kyle gave a questioning look, to which Damien replied, "I'm not one for much jewelry. Anyway, I already have a necklace." he finished, holding up the black chain around his neck, the end of which was covered by his shirt.
Kyle nodded, touching the oval stone with his hand. "You still haven't answered my question." the black-haired boy said. "Do you like it?"
Kyle smiled at the other, leaning toward him. "Love it." he said before kissing Damien on the cheek. "It's wonderful." he whispered into Damien's ear, hugging the boy with one arm.
-0-
Out of his head, Kyle was pushed out of his seat, wincing when the hit came. Grateful for the substance he once loathed more than anything in the world, he barely felt the newest bruise. Instead, he was in a dreamy, vague-type state where he knew what was happening yet didn't all the same. He lost himself in his mind once more, not caring about the now, only the past.
-0-
Kyle sniffed the bottle. "Go on," Damien urged, "It's not gonna kill ya to try a new drink."
"Is this as 'da-ja-vu' to you as it is to me?" Kyle laughed. "You always say 'it's not gonna kill ya to try it!'" Kyle mimicked Damien's voice and tone, laughing at the end.
"Yet you still act like you doubt me and then say 'not now,'" Damien replied, doing his own Kyle imitation. "Why waste the time arguing with me? Just try it as soon as I give it to ya!"
"And risk dying from something unknown?" Kyle asked jokingly.
"Why do you always seem to think I'm out to kill you?" Damien asked, acting ashamed of his friend.
"Why do you always seem out to kill me?" Kyle countered with a raise of his eyebrow.
"What?" Damien asked, "When do I act like I'm out to kill you?"
"When you hand me something and tell me to try it." Kyle said matter-of-factly.
"Touché."
"But I guess I'll trust you this once." Kyle said with a fake tone of dramatic acceptance. He took a swig from the bottle, finding it easier to try anything Damien gave him before, he drank it fast and harsh the first time around so the next time won't be as bad. He forced himself to swallow, coughing and rubbing any excess liquid from his mouth afterward.
"Wasn't so bad, was it?" Damien asked.
Kyle stuck out his tongue, "As a matter-of-fact, it was." he said, crossing his arms. "It was terrible, what the hell was it?"
"Good ol' Vodka." Damien stated, laughing at Kyle's face. "C'mon, it's not that bad a drink. You're over-exaggerating."
Kyle gave him a disbelieving look. "I hardly think I am. It's a pretty alcohol-based drink. Why would you give me that knowing I don't drink often if at all?"
"Because it's fun." Damien said with a smirk. "Plus I wanna see what you do when you're drunk."
Kyle glared. "Not like I haven't already experienced you drunk."
"But that's the point isn't it? You have yet to be drunk, while I have. It's not fair. You simply Must experience it."
Kyle sighed and looked up at the stars, wondering just why Damien seemed to always want him to try more and more. Wasn't what he already did enough already? He was already to the point of craving the stuff, why add more to the list? But, inside he knew he couldn't deny Damien. He never could, and as he took another swig for Damien, he asked himself if he ever would.
-0-
Kyle found himself in the present once more, only this time he was alone. Having no idea what had happened, he was vaguely surprised by the marks on his body, some bloody, some just purplish. He felt as if his body was pulsing, his brain fuzzy yet at the same time depressed.
All these thoughts about his one and only friend, now gone forever it seemed. Laying where he was on the floor, he closed his eyes, feeling the carpet shifting under him in his state. As if the ocean was underneath him, carrying his body gently. Though, it wasn't as much a comfort as he had once felt it to be, having had this feeling so often he was immune to it. Maybe he needed to up the dose? Breathing out, he began to think of his friend once more. His hand found its way to the necklace from years ago. He felt it beating in his hands, almost like a heart. Blaming the drug, he flopped over onto his stomach and the memories came to him like a film once more.
-0-
At fifteen, Kyle's life changed immensely. It began with dreadful news from his only friend.
"W-what?" Kyle asked, eyes wide with shock, not believing Damien's words to be true. This had to be a joke, at least, he hoped it was. But inside, he knew it couldn't be, Damien had a sick sense of humor, and could be cruel and mean at times, but never to this extent. They would never joke about something so bad.
With a sigh, Damien paced Kyle's floor. "I know, I can't believe it either. If it were up to me I wouldn't be going at all." he said, angrily hitting the wall with his fist.
Kyle let both his hands pull his hair as he sat on his bed, legs dangling off one side, elbows on his knees. As hard as it was for him, he knew better. "But, I'm glad for you," he admitted grudgingly.
Damien halted in mid-step. His hands closed into tight fists. "What?" he asked harshly. "You want me gone?"
"No!" Kyle said immediately. "It's not that at all! I want you to stay with me here! It's just…"
Damien ran a hand through his hair. Waiting for Kyle to finish. "I just know that it's what's best for you. You've been wanting it forever and… Well I'm happy you finally get to get out of this hell-hole."
Damien closed his eyes tightly, trying to gain control over his emotions. "I wanted to go with dad since I got here." he said finally. "But I've always pictured you going with me since we met." he admitted. "I don't want to leave you here. It's too bad here. You don't belong here with these assholes. Especially alone."
Kyle drew in a deep breath as tears flooded his eyes. Just as always, he held them back, refusing to cry since his first feel of his mother's hate. "I'll still write, and you will too. And I'll think of you everyday." he said, his voice cracking. His hand grasped the oval black stone on his necklace, tracing the edges lightly as he always did when under stress.
Damien's eyes softened at this. "It'll be okay." he said, wanting nothing more than to believe the words.
He joined Kyle on the bed, wrapping an arm on the other's shoulders. Kyle leaned in, relaxing into a sleep as the silence passed over them. His hand still holding the necklace as if it were a protection from the future. Damien's hand played with Kyle's curls, taking joy in the way the curls sprang back into their exact position after being straightened and let go.
-0-
Months after being told the news, it was the day of departure. Kyle watched as Damien left, tears once more filling his eyes but not shedding. He desperately wanted nothing more than to run to his friend and beg him to remain here with him, but he couldn't. He felt hopeless, a feeling he hadn't experienced since he met Damien. Damien waved one last time from his car window, doing a sign with his hand they had made up years ago, not even knowing if it meant anything in particular yet not caring. Smiling sadly, Kyle gave him the sign back. The car left in a haze, and Kyle stood there even after it was out of sight, dazed.
He stood there even as his legs ached, his hand clutching the stone on his necklace tightly, as if touching the possession made Damien come back. Night began to fall, and with it came the one comfort. He felt like Damien was with him, beside him even. Telling him not to worry and to "stop standing there like an idiot."
With a smile at the thoughts of his friend, Kyle walked to his house, getting there without remembering the trip. He went to his room and opened his window, feeling as if Damien was out there, watching over him still. Even though he wasn't. It was nice if a little sad.
-0-
The year flew by with the same loneliness he had felt as a child. Only with letters to calm him. He told Damien everything he could, and in return, Damien offered the same kindness. But as time passed, the letters slowed to a stop. And as they stopped, so did Kyle's emotions. He became a doll. Living but not. He was like a ghost by his sixteenth birthday, giving in to his mother and her 'boyfriends' without any defense. He even began work at a local bakery, helping with cooking and cleaning. It was a small light in the darkness, but he did it with no care. He was disinterested in his surroundings, not playing into the sick humor that Damien used to warn him about. If he showed any liking to the place, he would be forced to leave it somehow. Just as everything he held dear always left him.
-0-
A month after his sixteenth birthday, a new switch began. His mother became a whore in the nicest of words. She already was, yes, but she was full-time now. And with the men she brought came more depression for Kyle. No guy was normal, they all seemed to be filled with anger and their own self-hatred. Or some were just there to make fun of the woman's desperation, taking a liking to showing dominance over her through physical assaults. Along with this new hatred in her life came a new hatred toward her son.
And as time passed, she became older than she should be. Kyle watched the explosion with glazed eyes. He watched as her now-haggard appearance became worse, to the point of unrecognizable to her past self. Full cheeks now hollow, ghostly, like her body was nothing but a shell now. Her once-youthful smile now humorless and disconnected from reality. Her eyes became glazed with unfulfilled desire, and try as she might through the parties, drugs, men, and booze, she could not fill the gaping hole inside her, and as such her eyes sunk into her face wrinkles around them. Her body was once beautiful, full and proud, shoulders straight, head high. Now, it was as hollow and broken as the rest of her, thin skin, hunched back, downcast head. Her voice wasn't even the same anymore. What was once happy and full of power was now mechanic and lower than Kyle had ever thought someone's voice could be, dread filling the tone more than anything now.
-0-
Exhausted with the depressing thoughts, Kyle became aware of his mind's peaking fatigue. Deciding to roll with it, he allowed himself to fall into a deep and troubling sleep.
Later, he woke shifting on the floor, whilst wondering how he got there in the first place. His mind still pulsed with the drug, fuzzy yet grasping all the same. He rubbed the back of his head, wincing when he hit a bump. Ah, that would explain it, he thought, yawning and rubbing his eyes. The window told him it was still dark, but the tip of the sun in the horizon told him it was indeed morning.
Groaning in both pain and emotional turmoil, he slumped into a sitting position, allowing himself a grimace from the aching before standing. He hated remembering yet needed it all the same. If only to allow himself the small comfort that at one time he had been liked, at one time he had belonged. Even if by only one person. That within itself gave him confidence the substances could never give. He fell back to the floor, backside hitting the floor numbly, limbs too heavy to stay up. He leaned to the side and vomited, grimacing with pain at the action. Too tired to care, he found himself collapsing onto the floor once more to sleep.
-0-
A week later found Kyle sitting in the library wondering what to read. He withheld a glare as he looked at the librarian's critical look at him. He knew he didn't wear the best clothing, but that was no excuse to be such a bitch to him about his reading. It wasn't like he was going to steal the books and burn them, and possible come back to the library to do the same. Kyle smirked, wondering if he should steal the books in spite, yet a voice in the back of his mind told him to not. Listening as he always did, he looked in each section.
Since Damien's departure, he had allowed himself to indulge in books. He found he loved reading history just as much as fiction. To his surprise, he even learned how to do proper math from them. He would have tried more in school as well, but his teacher's scathing looks towards him told him to try his hardest to not do anything. Not that he didn't do homework, which he began to like for both its challenging and mind-numbing qualities. No, he did it to pass time, to feel like he was good at something, to feel accomplished. He just never turned it in to the teachers. Because as much as he wanted to prove to them he was worth the time, he wanted to prove to them he hated them just as much. He knew he was immature with these thoughts, but after years of bullies and no one helping him while knowing something about his home life wasn't normal, he just didn't care. At all really.
And why should he? No one would care if he did do well in school. His mother would just tell him the educational system was a load of shit if they thought he was good at anything. And Damien…Well, he imagined Damien would think he was being stupid again. Though, he liked to believe Damien would at least be supported, but he supposed anything with Damien was a dream. What with the boy leaving him stranded here with no means of friends…
He was jolted from his thoughts when a shudder went through him unexpectedly. He dropped his books, not even looking back at the librarian's disapproving face to say sorry. Taking a steadying breath, he picked up his books, wondering what had just happened. Typically he thought it was something he had put in his body, but now he wasn't so sure. As far as he could remember, he should be sober completely right now.
He began his tread down the aisles again, searching for anything that caught his eye. He could feel the glare of the librarian on his back, but he didn't really care. Just as he didn't anything else. Though, he had to admit to himself that he had thought the staff here would be used to him by now. What with coming here the past couple years to read. Maybe she was new? He shrugged, telling himself to stop thinking about such things. He picked a corner and sat on the carpeted floor there, making sure to check for gum beforehand.
He read his books until the library closed. Groaning his loss, he placed the books back in their proper places with a raised eyebrow at the librarian, as if telling her "See, I'm not going to stab the books repeatedly, tear them apart, and then place them incorrectly on the shelf." At least, he hoped that's what it looked like. He sure as Hell was thinking it.
-0-
When Kyle sat in bed the next day, he breathed the fresh night air and wondered about his friend yet again. But he felt like there was something different about tonight. Like something was going to happen soon. Taking a shuddering breath, he closed his eyes and tried not to think about it. But when the sleepless night came to a close with the morning light, he felt his chest tighten in worry. He shook his head from the thoughts and showered before changing for school and gathering his bag before leaving.
-0-
Kyle was just coming into the house from school that day when he noticed the absence of sound. His worry from the night increased tenfold. Doing his usual routine of placing his belongings in his bedroom immediately after school, he waited for a sound. When none came, he began to look around the house. The kitchen held nothing, as did the bathroom. After looking everywhere, he became rushed. He finally found himself knocking on the one door he deterred from. His mother's room. As he knocked, he shivered. For an odd reason, he felt as if the darkness was here once more, enclosing him in its embrace. Yet, it wasn't comforting in the least. Quite the opposite. He wanted nothing more than to fight it off him. But he was being crazy, he knew. It wasn't real. Darkness wasn't a thing, it could never be alive.
When no answer came, he took a deep breath and opened the door with a creaking sound. "Sheila?" he asked the air timidly, turning on the light with a shaking hand. Looking at the bed, he fell to his knees, vomiting the little bit of food he had eaten that day. Gasping for air, he ran outside to the nearest phone, dialing for the police.
"9-1-1 what is your emergency?" the secretary asked.
"M-my mom…" Kyle said. "Ther-there's so much…."
"Calm down, sir." she recommended. "So much of what?" the woman asked.
"B-blood."
-0-
At the station, Kyle held the cup of hot chocolate without drinking. He sedately sat. His thoughts wouldn't catch up to his body, they were too focused on the past, on the sight of his mother on the bed. Though he didn't know how he knew it was her, it was too ugly a scene to distinguish a being. But he knew, his gut told him. The thought made him shake with disgust and revulsion both.
"You okay, son?" an officer asked. Kyle nodded, barely registering the question. "We have some things to ask you, you okay with that?" Again, he nodded, his head only just tilting. "I need to know about your family life." Nodding as a response, Kyle watched the liquid in the cup in his hands. "Okay then, I'll lead. What was your mother like?"
Kyle shrugged, "A mother." he answered, his voice taking a monotone.
The officer sighed, "Were there problems between your mother and you?"
Kyle thought back to the many times he fought with her, to the times she came close to killing him, letting her boyfriend take him. "The usual."
"Okay then," the officer said, "I guess all that's left is to make funeral arrangements, I take it you want the rabbi and all?"
Kyle thought for a moment, how many times his mother used to tell him to take pride in his religion to the fight about it to the end. The ultimate irony, Kyle could almost laugh. Someone who used to love Judaism became the sinner of a lifetime. And now the question of rather she should be buried due to Jewish laws was unreal. Kyle shrugged.
"Any kin you can go to?"
Again, Kyle shrugged. "Dad's gone and I knew no one else."
The officer made a sound in his throat before getting up, "I'm going to check into that then to see where you'll go. In the meantime, you can get some rest in the room over there," he pointed to the right toward a door, "it's for kids who need a place for the night. Rest up, if you need anything there'll be a receptionist out here all night." he offered before leaving the room.
Kyle stayed in his seat, watching the liquid in his cup, but never drinking any.
-0-
Kyle soon learned, to his surprise, that his father offered to take care of him as well as his mother's funeral arrangements after he was contacted and told of the news. Due to the graphic nature of the body after the murder, no dressing would take place nor cleansing.
Kyle was bothered with everything. First his mother was gone forever and now his dad was coming into his life after being absent for years… He was so confused it hurt to think. He stayed at the police station until the day his dad arrived finally came. He was nervous, but more angry than anything. When he first saw him, the man was standing in the doorway as Kyle sat on his makeshift bed. He saw himself in him, same hair color, cheekbones… and almost immediately, he looked away, hating that he looked like the bastard.
"Kyle?" Gerald asked, his voice cracking, "Is that really you?"
Kyle couldn't take the nonsense anymore, he looked away from the pleading eyes toward the far wall. Gerald gave a hurt look, "You've grown so much. Last I saw you-"
"You were leaving." Kyle interrupted.
Gerald nodded, forgetting Kyle couldn't see him with his head turned. "I wanted so much not to, but I had to…"
"Without so much as a note for over thirteen years?" Kyle asked with fake astonishment evident in his voice. "Why don't you just leave me like you did before? Leave me to be a burden to someone else." he stated, each word covered with venom, he could hear his mother's voice as he said it, and it hurt to think he was saying the same thing she would say to him-the burden.
Gerald ran a hand through his hair, "You don't understand, I only did it for your best interest-"
Kyle scoffed, crossing his arms to show the end of his participation in the conversation. To which Gerald sighed and left the room to sign forms.
-0-
His mother was laid to rest in a graveyard near their old house, now up for sale. The funeral didn't last long, and only Gerald and Kyle attended. At the end, Gerald took a few moments to say goodbye alone before laying a stone on the fresh grave as a sign of respect from the Jewish religion. Afterward, the man gave Kyle a stone and walked away to honor Kyle's privacy with his mother, not knowing just how much the boy hated her.
Kyle read the epitaph with a sarcastic smirk: "Here Lies Sheila Broflovski, Beloved Mother, and Once-Wife" With thoughts laying on the various fights between her and him, his smile faltered to a frown. And when the memories of the past began to sway in his mind, he nearly vomited.
Taking the sharp end of the stone, he scratched the epitaph with all of his strength. Barely breaking but still making a noticeable scratch over the words "Beloved Mother" before throwing the stone as far as he could away from the tomb.
-0-
Leaving New Jersey should have been hard, but it wasn't, it was actually an easy occasion. And after he loaded what little he had in his one suitcase into Gerald's car, he got in without a second glance back to his house, the place he grew up in and dreaded for most his life.
"That all?" Gerald asked, taking Kyle's nod as a "yes" and starting the car. "You ready to go then?" Once again, a nod.
As the car left, Kyle rested, giving into the gentle car seats and the small vibrations of the vehicle as it turned. He didn't know where he was going exactly, only that his father was taking him to live at his home. Kyle didn't care about what his new life was to bring, too used to disappointment and devastation following him to hope for a better life in his new home. Then again, ever since Damien stopped writing back, he had stopped caring about his life. Hope lost with his best and only friend's letters. He grasped the necklace, ignoring Gerald's look of confusion at this. But the man said nothing. For once doing something right.
-0-
Gerald turned into the driveway of his home, his throat choked and stomach churning uneasily. He was thankful for the easy trip, a couple hours flight and only a couple more driving, this time in Gerald's actual car instead of the rental from before. Yet, the entire trip he was uneasy emotionally, strained being the best way to describe the tension. Kyle barely spoke, sleeping mainly not that Gerald blamed him. The poor kid had more stress on him than a normal teen should.
Gerald turned off the car, hesitating as he turned back to wake his son. Son… Scoffing inwardly, he remembered just how horrible he must be in Kyle's eyes. He had no idea how to raise Kyle, especially him being already raised to teen years… With shame, he thought of his own life from the time he walked away from Sheila and his, at the time, three-year-old son. He still remembered his internal rage craving to take over and drive his body to destruction, but he instead chose a simpler task. He walked away from the cause of his anger. In turn, walking away from his son.
The time passed quickly for him, his life just beginning when he thought he was at the end. He became the famed lawyer he had dreamed of becoming as a young man. And with his new life came his new family. A small Canadian boy was adopted as his own, treated just as he wished he could Kyle. But now that he had Kyle there, actually with him, the shock of time hit him like a ton of bricks. Thirteen years… And he had never taken the time to so much as meet his own flesh and blood.
Kyle woke slowly, not remembering where he was. He felt so numb, prickles of his body where the sleep was leaving began to take over. His mind turned on, asking his body why he was in a sitting position. And feeling the cold smoothness of the window of his car door on the side of his head brought reality to him. His mother was gone. Sadistically tortured to death. And his father was… taking him in… Never in a million years would he have imagined this. The man whose face he used to try so hard to remember and whose last words remained as the only ones staying close to his mind. He used to dream of his dad rescuing him from that Hell-Hole, but now… He didn't care. He knew too much of life. He wasn't a naïve little boy anymore. Almost completely raised and just now gaining a father. It was a sick joke, just as Damien told him once.
Peeking out the window, he saw the house, his new home. Green, huge, and nice; inviting. A garden in the front yard showed him all he needed to know about his father. He grew new life, not taking in the old. He was clearly finished with Kyle and his mother as soon as the garden was planted. Kyle wanted nothing more but to cut the flowers from their stems and throw them into the garbage, where he felt he belonged in his new surroundings. If the expensive looks of the outside weren't telling enough, the neighborhood told all. A suburb in a small town. Running a frustrated; trembling hand through his hair, he took a steady breath before opening the car door. The bright sun hit him, blinding his eyes. He tugged his hood to his coat up over his face.
Gerald popped the trunk and Kyle gathered his belongings before trekking to the front door after his father. Once inside, Kyle had to take a moment. The furniture was nice, far nicer than any he could remember having. His hands curled into fists. He knew his father lived better than himself and his mother, but to think how different a life he could have had had his dad taken him in instead of his mother only raised a fierce anger to his chest.
Gerald showed him his home, Kyle barely even trying to pay attention. At the end of the tour, he was shown to his room. Seeing his surroundings only made him drop his stuff in shock. Not only was there a comfy-looking bed with clean sheets, but a desk, computer, a large chair, and a bookshelf already filled with books except for the bottom shelf. He closed his eyes and opened them again, to make sure he wasn't dreaming.
"Kyle?" Gerald asked, "Are you okay?"
Kyle nodded, only just registering the action. "There's one more thing I need to tell you, well, a person." Gerald stated after a moment of silence. "Are you okay with meeting someone right now?"
Already anticipating a lover in the house, Kyle took it in stride, nodding again. He took a deep breath as Gerald got the person. Waiting in the room, Kyle walked over to his new items. His fingertips touching the surface of his nice wooden desk disbelievingly. His own from the house…plastic and used, a makeshift desk really.
He went to the bookshelf now, he had never had one of his own before, Sheila never spoiling nor seeing any reason to give him a shelf since he was as "dumb as a rock." Shaking, he read the book titles, skimming the spines with his hand. The books were in alphabetical order, each shelf containing new subjects. Some books were for fun, others for school and studies.
He dropped to the floor, his legs crossed, elbows on knees, hands tugging his curls in confusion. Eyes closed tightly, he forced back the tears. He wouldn't dare shed them in this house, and for the stupidest reason of being filled with so many good and bad emotions at the same time. The feeling of darkness found him once more, making him uncomfortable for the second time in his life.
Then-suddenly-memories flashed: His mother crying in the living room, his nose breaking, his mother's new boyfriend staying over, his black eye, his mother throwing a glass cup which crashed directly beside his head, his first cigarette, his mother lying on her bed- mouth open in horror, blood pooling to the floor, staining the carpet, dripping like rain, creating ripples in puddles of the crimson substance- Eyes were holes, insides torn out-intestines across the floor like a rope-
"Kyle!"
Kyle woke from his daytime nightmare in a rush, looking behind him from where the voice came. Gerald was beside him, face frightened and a pale white shade. The man's hand was outstretched toward his shoulder, as if he was hesitating to touch it, not that Kyle minded his fear in touching him. Not many did unless to cause pain anyway, it actually made him feel better knowing that no matter how horrible this man was, he most likely wouldn't touch him. The glimmer of hope helped, taken away in a moment as reality hit once more.
Feeling the sweat on his face, he wiped it off with his coat sleeve. His teeth ached as if he had grinded them harshly, his breaths came in pants. After a calming moment, Kyle gained his sanity once more, picking himself off of the floor.
"Wh-what just happened, are you all right?" Gerald asked, his voice shaking.
Kyle nodded, "I'm fine." he stated impassively, voice a tad higher than usual. He hoped the inexperience the man had with him made him unable to notice the pitch difference. He could hear his mother laughing at him as if she was here herself. Making himself stop the thoughts, he looked at Gerald. He didn't want to tell the man what he had thought about, too uncomfortable being caught in his dream to say much even if he wanted.
Gerald gave him a searching look, placing one hand over his heart and the other in his hair. Sedate once more, he looked lost. "Um… Are you sure you want to meet them yet? It's okay if you want to wait, they can stay at a hotel for a couple days if it's too much for you." he offered.
Kyle cocked an eyebrow at him, wondering why he was being asked so much. "It's fine." he said finally.
"Okay.. Uh, come on out, Ike." Gerald called.
From the doorway, the sight hidden by the man in front of Kyle, Ike came out. He was odd-looking but not ugly. Different. "He's your little step-brother." Gerald said after an awkward tension passed over the three. "He was adopted…"
Ike smiled at Kyle and held out a hand, which Kyle took. After a short handshake Kyle took his hand away as if burnt, not saying a word. He could see Ike searching him, but what he was looking for Kyle didn't know nor care about. The anger once more blazing his chest, he only wanted to be alone at the moment to sulk as his mother had called it.
His father had adopted instead of taking him back. It was the final step to proving he didn't need his old family, nor his old son. He wondered whether there was a lover, but as Gerald offered no other person up, Kyle shrugged away the thought. So either he was alone, had a potential date on the side, or was holding back information.
Kyle didn't care anymore, if he thought he was jaded before from his mother's "gentle" care and his own wisdom from age, he was strongly wrong. This scarred him far more than he wanted to admit to himself.
-0-
Left alone with his thoughts and a once more dark room, Kyle pondered the future and past. Two days had passed without a real conversation spoken. His new family deemed him unsocial and traumatized by his mother's death. As such, they decided to leave him be for the next few weeks, just to get used to all the changes in his life. But nothing was worse to Kyle than being left alone. It's what he always was, alone. And the loneliness only added to the self-hatred, memories, and scarring of his body from the physical assaults on himself. Trapped in thoughts, he often woke to find nail marks in his skin, or bruises from falling or hitting the wall repeatedly in his highly sensitive state-of-mind.
He loved his new room, but his own pride stopped him from using it to its full advantage. He couldn't get on the computer, his knowledge limited with the device he felt should have been easy to work. And he couldn't read, his mind too scattered to focus. Every item in the room reminded him of his old life, of how God had a sick; twisted sense of humor.
-0-
Ike came to Kyle's room daily after a week, wanting to know his new brother. Kyle typically either ignored him or half-listened to his stories. He was the only one talking or moving around. Kyle would lay on his bed and stare out the window, silent and still.
As the next week of bugging from Ike came, Kyle began to talk back, saying yes or no to questions or acknowledging what was said. He had yet to smile or laugh, only a half-smile once when he was reminded of his friend by Ike's tone once.
Kyle was getting used to his new home, and his younger brother. The boy was enthusiastic, outgoing, and apparently Canadian. He was still in middle school, and loved talking about his friends there. He loved school from what Kyle understood. Apparently, Ike was a genius for his age, but had refused to skip grades for his friends. Kyle envied that, but once again let the feeling pass over him. It wasn't Ike's fault that Kyle lived so differently from him. If anyone was at fault, it was Gerald.
He was told that he was in South Park, Colorado. A city and state Kyle was all too familiar with. Damien lived here, or at least did at one point. After they lost contact, he could have moved. But Kyle still had hope strangely enough, and sure enough soon he could only think about what to say if they met or if they would meet. In a week's time, school would begin, off of summer break now. Kyle thought how fast time had gone by. From his mother's end to his school's then his life entirely. Now, he was lying in a new home, with a new family, and was about to experience a new school. It was all so fast and confusing. All he wanted to do was gain some control, yet control seemed so far away from him.
His body betrayed him often now, craving insanely for substances his mind begged him to stop. He knew he had to give in, yet liked to think he had a choice in the matter. He had to say though, no matter what he was putting in his body, it had to be getting healthier from the food. Three meals a day and sometimes even a snack. It was unbelievable to him, and he took it in stride. His body gained some much-needed weight, and as time passed he looked healthier than he had in years.
-0-
The Friday before school began, Gerald came home with a load of bags, unloading them all into Kyle's bedroom. The teen looked astounded by it all. Ike helped his father, and Kyle, not knowing what to do, just watched from the side. Once finished, Gerald smiled at Kyle, "Well?" he asked.
"Well?" Kyle repeated back, "What is all this?" he asked.
Gerald frowned, "Look inside the bags." Kyle did so, only to gape at what was inside. New school notebooks, papers, binders, and in the most recent bags, clothing. He stared at them, not knowing what to say.
"Ar-are these…Are they mine?" he asked nervously, looking at his hands.
"Yep, I saw that you didn't have much to take, so I went shopping on the way home. I didn't know how you felt about shopping, so I went alone and got a store clerk to help me pick out everything teens are supposed to like." Gerald replied, taking pride in Kyle's surprise.
"I-I can't…" Kyle began, "I can't take them all. It's too much."
Gerald gave him a curious look, catching onto Kyle's own confusion with a frown. He had known Kyle took next-to-nothing with him when he came, but to see with his own eyes the reaction of a person who isn't used to getting new items for school summed up the truth. To think that all this time he was living in the lap of luxury while his own son was living poorly. The town and house made more sense now, seeing the trashed park and the broken-down home. He noticed it then too, but ignored it, too prideful to admit how stupid he was for thinking Kyle and his mother would be fine with the small amount he sent every month in child support. Rubbing his neck, he thought of how to handle the situation. Ike took it from him.
"Too late, everything's already bought." the small boy stated with a grin, "Looks like you're stuck with everything."
Kyle gave him a weird look, but only nodded, getting the hint to stop worrying. Sighing, he said in a grateful whisper, "Thank you." The words were spoken to Ike, yet supposedly meant for both men. Kyle loathed saying 'thank you' to that man, but decided against voicing his thoughts. He remained impassive afterward, taking it in stride.
-0-
The night before school, Kyle couldn't sleep, he tossed and turned, eventually forgetting sleep altogether and reaching for his window, the night air greeted him. Yet, even with its comfort he couldn't sleep. Standing from his bed, he walked to his closet, and began to dig through the small dresser found under the hanging clothes. In his sock drawer, he found what he knew he needed. Finding his lighter, he lit the blunt. He took it to the window, inhaling the substance and exhaling it into the night air. He hated the cravings, but they came now more than ever as his stress was up to its highest. His main concern with the substance at the moment was where he would get more. He knew a guy in Jersey who used to give Damien the stuff, and gave him it after Damien left. But, here he knew no one. Taking a shaky breath, he rubbed his head.
Maybe Damien would be there… He thought on it for awhile. He knew Damien's father, a busy-sounding man, would place the boy in a school, having no time for the boy. And since South Park was a small town, the chances of Damien being a student at his new school were high. Taking a long drag, he held the stream in longer, hoping for a faster reach to his less stressed mode. Exhaling deeply, Kyle finished the small favor. The nerves were more relaxed, and though his stomach rumbled and ached for something more, for food at the least, he went to bed. His thoughts still on what to say to the black-haired boy he once lived for, he fell asleep.
End of Chapter One